Skhye Moncrief - [Feral 01]

by Feral Fascinations (lit)

  A million things that will get my feet back on earth. He patted his pod fighter. “Where’s the gas tank on this baby and what do gas stations look like on the back forty past earth’s moon?” Anything to get my butt back home.

  She chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Straightarrow.”

  Wow, she had expectations.

  “Forget refueling. This model spacecraft operates off your body’s energy.”

  What a big lump to swallow. “Huh?”

  She leaned her sexy organic curves against the vehicle’s shiny straight inflexible hull, pressing her black leather against the metal.

  Oh to pin her down back in our quarters.

  “Our mother ship operates with psychic power,” she said. “We feed ourselves, then turn around and fly the ship. Not much waste in the process. Nor do we harm any environment. But pod fighters are hard to explain. The technology is stolen from its planet of origin in Quadrant One. Thanks to Voldon’s theft, we managed to grab a fleet of these almost indestructible pods.” She patted the craft’s crease-free nose like it was her prized war pony. “They aren’t used for battle.” Her gaze met his. “They’re used to protect our secret weapons.”

  His gut fluttered.

  Was that intuition talking? And this emotionless female really needed to wink now and then. Or do something expressive. After all, she was pregnant.

  “Your code word will save your ass, Straightarrow. Nobody else can fly this ship. It’s our version of a knight’s medieval armor. And you don’t even have to know how to fly it or how to read star charts. You just tell it where you want to go.”

  “And remember to eat a good breakfast. Right?” Or be the fool missing a meal.

  She nodded. “As for this pod fighter, it’s been waiting with The Cause over seven-hundred earth years for a pilot. You’ve just made its day. Now, Goro offered to walk you through the star chart chamber. I can take you to him.”

  Star charts showed earth’s location. Although, finding earth had to be easier than digesting the fact a pod fighter hadn’t seen flight time in seven centuries. Didn’t the metal corrode? Had these folks heard the old adage use it or lose it? So many questions and so little time. Time was extremely important now. Just how long were Nulvitian pregnancies? Escaping was totally unacceptable until he found a way to protect his child. So an understanding of the star charts would help him. “After you.”

  Kindrist led him through the winding corridors to a lift and onto a ship level that was one large round room. As far as he could tell. An empty space.

  What had to be a blank control-panel dashboard circled the space where three people wearing the same standard white crew garb sat cross-legged with their backs to him like monks in prayer.

  “Here sit today’s pilots,” Kindrist whispered. “Please respect their meditation and remain quiet.”

  Okay. No yammering. Or I’ll look like the green earthling who made the ship crash.

  Kindrist touched his elbow and pointed left. He followed her to where there was nothing but a meditating pilot.

  A door made of blue light shot up from the floor.

  Geesh. Hide the star charts from the sex-slave-recruits. Well, good sex wouldn’t break him. But the slave aspect ate away at a man’s pride. He followed Kindrist through the doorway into a room that looked as normal as his personal quarters except the little to no lighting.

  The shadows turned at the center of the space.

  Goro.

  The commander stood emotionless. Almost at ease. “Congratulations on your news,” Goro spoke. “The crew hasn’t heard of the pregnancy. We’ll announce the news after Kindrist has passed the dangerous period.”

  Dangerous period? After the attack on the nursery, who could guess what dangers Goro mentioned. So much for immediate escape to earth. He shot a glance sideways at Kindrist who stood at ease again--her natural state.

  Kindrist nodded toward Goro. “Since the Mawshwuc is alive and has ingested our crewman’s blood, I take it your choice to keep my pregnancy silent is more a way to keep Voldon from learning through communication with his Mawshwuc.”

  Goro didn’t wince and began pacing in the darkness. “I hadn’t thought of that aspect yet, Red Trekaar. Thank you for your candor.”

  “I’ll return shortly.” She departed.

  Well, there was nothing like facing one’s adversary. Goro wasn’t supposed to be the bad guy if this tale of a crazed psychic ran shod over the universe. Although, when a person became a shanghaied mercenary, everyone suddenly became at fault for something by default. Including the commander.

  “You’ve been introduced to your pod fighter?” Goro asked.

  “Yes. That was an enlightening experience. Let’s just say there must be more than seven wonders of the universe.”

  The commander nodded. “Like flying continents, living without a soul, or children speaking inutero.” He nodded. “Wonders often best avoided.”

  What kind of insanity did he elude to? The last thing I want to do is chat with the baby.

  “Your expression tells me you’re confused about the wonders.” He chuckled and turned to face Jake, boots spread squarely beneath him. “Technology varies across the universe and differs greatly from what you have on earth. Now, you’ve been assigned an elite extraterrestrial spacecraft. I hope you find it pleasing and welcome the opportunity to use one. Very few will ever claim the luxury of owning something as unique.”

  “Give me time to digest the concept.”

  “Fair enough.” Goro nodded.

  But all of the pomp and claims didn’t factor in the obvious. “So, what do I need to know about star charts if my spacecraft does the driving?”

  “I thought you’d feel more comfortable being drawn beneath our cloak, into the secret side of our operation. After all, you think as well as the rest of us. Why not let you have a hand in the logistics of this operation?”

  Finally, an earthling gets some respect around here. “All right. Show me where we’re going.”

  Goro waved a wide hand.

  Pinpoints of light popped around them in the room. Some seemed to rest upon their bodies. Others floated in clouds. Must be nebulas. Unfortunately, I never took that class.

  “Show quadrants,” Goro commanded.

  A grid system laced its way through the stars.

  “Here,” Goro pointed to the uppermost quadrant, “is my planet of origin. Almost decimated the rock is, except for the atoms locked within my cells ready to fight at any moment for free thought.” He pointed down to the bottom row of quadrants. “Earth bobs here in the great universe’s ocean. Ebbs and tides, universal currents of energy, keep all as it would be to the universe. But the universe’s rhythm has no control over Voldon. He originates in Quadrant Four.”

  Goro stepped sideways and peered up at dots of light. “You can’t see planets or suns here. They are too small. But you can grasp the enormity of the universe knowing what you view is so large that it’s beyond your human comprehension. And mine. We as beings don’t even register as specks in this scene.”

  No argument there.

  “Computer, show Gameddaron,” Goro ordered.

  The stars blinked away to leave one large round blue planet.

  “As you can see, this is a planet.” Goro stepped around the sphere with the ease of a man who circled it daily.

  Blue light cast the commander in an eerie glow.

  “I can’t read your thoughts, Straightarrow.” His orange gaze glowed in the blue light. “So, I’ll have to believe in what you say. In return, I have to trust you believe my words.”

  Well, an intuitive gut could vouch for what a man didn’t hear. “Fair enough. What about Gameddaron?”

  “I need you to penetrate Voldon’s compound and sabotage the neural network. Only then will Voldon be incapable of channeling his power through Quadrant Eleven afterward.” He pointed at a tan area on the planet. “This is the planet’s only continent. The only structure on Gameddaro
n houses the neural network. You’ll have to fly low, locate the compound, land, and find your way underground.” Goro faced Jake squarely. “Can you do that in under forty-eight hours, before you shift? Before you lose some of your ability to reason?”

  So much for defining impossibilities. “Uh, let’s start over. What kind of sabotage are we talking about? How big is this continent? And just how much time will I be spending in flight to the planet? Not to mention, just how do I fly under the radar when sneaking up on psychics?”

  Goro’s low chuckle bounced around the room’s dark shadows. “You think the way I do, Straightarrow. Red Trekaar proves again to be the wisest of us all.”

  Was that an insult? “Are you hitting me below the belt?”

  Goro shook his head. “No. No, my friend. Red Trekaar blames herself for the nursery’s destruction and accepts responsibility for the death of our children. She believes her refusal to choose just any Violet Child created the delay Voldon’s drone needed to locate our ship. Alas, the blame does not reside with her. It’s easy to see that she waited for the right man. Of that, I am most certain now.”

  So, that’s what her comment about not being on the mission with him meant. No wonder she said remember the children. What a cross to bear.

  “Your fighter running on biorhythms is a stealth aircraft as you humans like to label your top-secret fighters,” Goro said.

  Now the commander was speaking English.

  “The pod fighter is actually a protective device to keep you alive by aiding in your secret approach,” Goro added. “And your fighter knows how to find humanoid activity. All you need to do is lie back and wait. As for the neural network, Red Trekaar will see that you have sufficient knowledge of all the styles of neural networks. After all, she has the most to lose—her life. Remember, fortress type is key to where the processing chamber’s location will be.”

  So, why wasn’t Kindrist going along on this mission? “Could you explain why I go alone again?”

  “Two reasons. Voldon’s forces can’t read your mind and detect your presence. That’s the most significant reason. However, Voldon’s fascinated with killing exotic creatures since his predecessors learned our mercenaries shape shift. He knows how we bind as soul mates, how we continue to mate to appease the inner beast. As soon as he donned his crown, he began capturing The Cause’s soul-mate mercenaries, released them in his private arena, and slaughtered them before his masses. He can save the blood from one or both of you and use it to keep you alive as long as he desires. Alas, none of my crew members deserve a long torturous death. Keeping you separated on missions protects you both from being captured together.”

  “This Voldon can contain a were-creature? Kindrist was pretty powerful when she shifted.”

  “Voldon can do many things.”

  The trip to planet Gameddaron seemed more and more futile.

  “We need time, Straightarrow. Time for the legends to unfold. You can buy us time.”

  Crap. More legend talk. “Don’t you people have a real plan?”

  Goro cocked a brown eyebrow. “All we have are legends. And thanks to you, we just might have one of the children of legend.”

  But what about the fighter aircraft? Why hadn’t their creators ended this war?

  “What are you thinking, Straightarrow?”

  “That the people who created these elite spacecraft you’re wanting me to fly into Gameddaron should have ended this war ages ago with their technology.”

  Goro nodded twice and thrust his hands behind his back. “True. But fledgling psychics couldn’t prevent natural catastrophes like their sun going quasar. Only a few survived to die homeless. Their ships were passed on to The Cause to fight the war.”

  How much of the tale actually occurred or was just twisted into a legend like half-breed earth babies? For some reason, the future seemed to be hiding many answers. I’ll be around a while to hear a few.

  Chapter Thirteen

  About an hour later, Jake found Kindrist standing by one of the docking-bay’s large windows near the pod fighters. She hadn’t seen him enter. Or so he hoped for the sake of posterity. The moment’s sneak factor was kind of nice given these aliens could read minds.

  He went rock hard.

  The sight of her inspired his peon to get rowdy and make demands. Maybe they could sniff out a private place around here. He scanned the enormous space.

  Other people, dressed in standard white meditator garb or black leather issue, worked around the pod fighters. The odd clothing contrast definitely had to have more significance than cowboy hat colors. Why the oddly universal color of peace and the color of death so blatantly on stage? Did folks around here need to be reminded of their reality so often? He shook off the point and strode to Kindrist’s side.

  The fingertips on one of her hands glued her to the portal’s frame.

  She cast a long speculative glance his direction. “Goro didn’t send for me. You must remember the way through the corridors to have found your way here. Excellent memory. I will not have to worry about you as much now.”

  Just another reason for her to take pride in her choice of mates. But she didn’t need to worry about a man who killed for a living getting lost among The Seeker’s labyrinth. Still, expressing her concern for his safety showed another side of her. The side with a conscience. Would she admit she was softer with what he knew about her? “Goro said you blame yourself for the death of the children.”

  She slid her gaze back to the stars. “The probe wouldn’t have found the ship if I hadn’t taken my time.”

  Any number of things could have factored into that attack’s success. But she assumed responsibility. That he could understand. Mercenary work was never pretty. Relying on another person proved foolish time and time again. Better to blame oneself than wait around for another to botch up your life. At least, nobody else could get the best of you. That singular truth resonated through the ages. They had a lot in common.

  “You’re quiet. Do my actions disgust you?” she asked.

  He met her speculative stare. “No. I was just thinking about how alike we were.”

  “How so?” Her gaze grew long and deep, almost searching his eyes.

  “Just mercenary life. That’s all.” But in the circles of her fiery yellow eyes he could see himself. The loneliness. The desperation. A passion for justice. Only a fool would confess that to his master though. Time to change the subject. “Humor me. Why do you all wear white or black?”

  “As you know, black is the best color for mercenary work. Whereas, the rest of the crew is equal. Each pulls his own weight--to coin an earth phrase. And over two millennia ago, our leaders thought it best to ensure nobody felt of lower class, a situation that creates animosity. Animosity leads to people disrespecting each other and breaking code by reading another's thoughts. The general reason behind uniforms. So, free-thinkers fighting for freedom of thought aboard starships wear white, a color of peace. We are all equal. We never forget our equality.”

  What a farce of a utopia. More like one existing on the fringe of collapse. Could it be possible to have so many beings in the universe agreeing to live like this? Or was this just a military strategy for appeasing the troops? The differentiation between mercenaries and crew had to be a clue. “Do guys in black get special perks?”

  “Perks?” Her gaze slid past his shoulder.

  A blonde woman in black leather strode into the docking bay, eyed Kindrist with odd iridescent lime-green eyes, and nodded.

  Kindrist returned the gesture as quickly and emotionlessly as the newcomer had initiated the reaction.

  A tall lanky man wearing black leather pants and vest approached the blonde’s left.

  Not a mercenary by any means. Both acted like they knew each other pretty well. The guy probably wore the sleeveless vest to make him look a bit more buffed than he could ever appear in long sleeves. Buffed just wasn’t happening for the scrawny male.

  “That’s Sevra and her earth mate,
Paul Weatherford,” Kindrist whispered. “They’ve completed two missions.”

  Why whisper? Kindrist’s at-ease stance never wavered.

  His gut sank.

  Great. Something was going down. “Is something wrong I should know about?”

  “Later. They’re coming.” Kindrist studied the were-assassin couple.

  “Red Trekaar, my husband has asked to meet Straightarrow,” Sevra called over the dull shush of air blown through the ship’s ventilation system.

  Kindrist stepped to Jake’s side and nodded. “It is good you both meet early on. Straightarrow surely misses earth.”

  “Again, we agree on things,” Sevra said as she and her spouse claimed a spot two steps away. “I see congratulations are in order. May Devros bring your pregnancy to fruition. Safe days ahead as Destiny unfolds.” Sevra nodded solemnly to Kindrist.

  “To us all,” Kindrist replied with a nod.

  Sevra shot Kindrist a curious look, then waved from the gawky Paul to Jake. “And here is your brethren, an earthling, my husband. At long last, Red Trekaar treats your undying homesickness with a good dose of your mother earth.”

  Jake’s gut wrenched.

  And it wasn’t about his rising desire for sexual recreation. Sevra’s statement had to have been an insult. He focused on the man who stood a few inches taller. Paul almost had a somber zombified look about him. But more life lit his features than any zombie’s carcass.

  Paul grinned and thrust out an enormous palm. “Good to meet you, Straightarrow.”

  With squawking intuition, better to keep this professional. Well, as professional as mercenaries could get. He grabbed the wide solid hand and squeezed. “Where you from?”

  “Texas. And you?” Paul returned the shake and released his grip.

  “San Diego.” The man didn’t need to know anything else than the location of his alien abduction.

  “I won’t attempt to repeat your history that’s been buzzing around the ship. Most likely, it’s been stretched and twisted a bit. But I gather you’re ex-military?”

  Now, this guy was rather polite and sociable. What was up with his evil wife? Yet, something had to be derived from this meeting. Another universal truth. Outer-space rationalizations? Opposites attract. “Yes.” Now, how did her husband get sucked into this space opera? “What about you?”